


This Life Is Living

by Verasteine



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e06 Countrycide, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-10
Updated: 2009-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the cannibals, too much is standing between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Life Is Living

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://used-songs.livejournal.com/profile)[**used_songs**](http://used-songs.livejournal.com/), for the fabulous beta. I renamed it, hope it didn't confuse you!
> 
> It's a rite of passage, writing post-Countrycide, and everyone does it. This is my two cents.

They've not all come back to the hub; Gwen has gone to the hospital with Owen. Jack seats Tosh on the sofa with a cup of strong, hot tea, more sugar and milk in it than is normal, but he reasons she needs it right now. And he doesn't know what to say that would soothe her.

There are bruises on her face, just like the first time he saw her. She's trembling in the same way, too, but this time when he meets her eyes, she gives him a smile and a nod. "I'm all right, Jack," she says softly, blowing on the hot liquid and sipping carefully. She doesn't grimace at the sweet taste, but instead gives him another smile. "Thank you."

The fact that she spoke first, referenced what has happened, allows him to finally stop moving around, stop finding himself something to do, and sit on the corner of the sofa. Tosh looks up at him. "You came through for us. I always knew you would. We all did."

Jack shivers, remembering the blood that had seeped through Gwen's green jacket, and Owen's angry, accusing eyes as he had helped her into the car. Tosh, the fear in her face when he first freed her hands, after he had shot the villagers, the sweat and stale blood he could smell on her clothing. She has some bruises under these layers, too, he knows it.

Tosh wraps her tracksuit -- the only spare clothes she had in the hub -- tighter around herself. "It's not your fault, Jack," she says, her voice soft.

He looks at her to see the determination in her eyes. "I let you all down."

"No, you didn't." Tosh reaches out, laying her small hand on his arm. "We were all in it together, we're a team."

Jack thinks of what she doesn't know, of how close he came to being the only survivor. This is his team, his first team, and until this day, he hasn't quite realised how enormous that responsibility can be. "Yes," he says, a lump in his throat making his voice suddenly come out thick. "Yes, we are."

Toshiko's eyes light up as she squeezes his arm gently. Jack slides off the corner onto the sofa proper, and puts his arms around her. Tosh leans in without hesitation, settling her head under his chin. Jack holds her close and lets the tears dry on his face.

\--

Tosh finishes her tea slowly, telling him a story about how her mother used to abhor the British custom of taking sugar in tea, and how she secretly always liked it. Jack smiles, laughs in appropriate places and makes a joke about liking things sweet. Tosh laughs with him, wiping stray tears from her eyes. Finally she says, "Ianto's been a long time. Maybe you should check on him?"

Ianto, ever the gentleman, has let Toshiko shower first, but it has indeed been a while and suddenly Jack is worried. He leans in and kisses the top of Tosh's head. "I'll go check."

He makes his way down to the communal showers and opens the door. The changing area is deserted, but he can hear water running from behind the wall. Ianto's clean clothes are lying on a bench and next to the rubbish bin is a lone rubbish bag, tied off. Jack suspects it contains the clothes Ianto had been wearing the past few days.

He calls Ianto's name hesitantly, but gets no response. Carefully, he steps around the separation into the shower area. One of the six showers is in use, the middle one in the row on Jack's left hand side. Ianto stands under the spray.

He is only standing there, not really moving, arms wrapped around his middle, not quite covering the bruises. He is staring ahead, eyes fixed on a tile on the opposite wall that as far as Jack can tell is not in any way distinct from the other cracked white tiles.

And Ianto is beautiful.

Even with bruises all over his legs and abdomen, even with the exhaustion making his face paler than usual, even with the way his eyes are tight with lines, he is beautiful. Jack calls his name again, softly.

Ianto turns his head and meets Jack's eyes. Jack watches his face fall, watches the way Ianto bites his lip, the way Ianto balls his hands into fists and brings them up to his face. He crosses the slippery floor and without thinking steps under the spray with Ianto, wrapping his arms around him.

Ianto tenses briefly, then sags against Jack, his head falling to Jack's shoulder. Jack ignores the water as it cascades around them and drenches his clothes, sliding a hand into Ianto's wet hair, stroking his other hand down Ianto's back.

"Ssh, ssh, it's okay," he says soothingly, and feels Ianto tremble. So much, too much, has happened, to all of them, and Ianto... Ianto is crying in his arms and as much as Jack wants to find a way to fix him, he knows there is so much damage he can't even begin to heal.

Ianto presses his face against Jack's neck as his sobs begin to quiet down, and Jack holds him tightly and doesn't let go. Finally Ianto stirs, and before things can get awkward, Jack pulls away and gets them both towels. He wraps one around Ianto's shoulders and runs the other over his own hair. Ianto's shut off the shower, and now towels himself dry, walking gingerly over to the changing area.

Jack focuses on drying himself off and changing his own clothes for the dry ones he keeps in his locker down here. When he turns back to Ianto, he sees the young man sitting on the bench, carefully pulling a t-shirt over his head.

"Do you need anything?" Jack asks softly.

Ianto's hair stands in all directions as his head emerges from the collar. He smiles, but it's reserved. "No, thank you, I'm fine."

"That is one thing you are not," Jack replies with a hesitant smile of his own.

Ianto's eyes meet his for a second; then he looks away. Just like the day before, around the table. Jack pulls his braces over his shoulders and goes to sit down next to Ianto. "I'm not angry with you," he says.

Ianto glances warily at him as he approaches. He seems disconcerted by how close Jack is, pulling his head back and sliding away a little. Jack doesn't miss the grimace of pain on Ianto's face. "I didn't think you were, sir."

"Good." Jack is aching to touch him again, pull him into his arms and just keep him close and safe for a few moments. But he senses the moment has passed, and Ianto is putting distance between them. "You need to get some rest. I'll take you home."

"Thank you, sir." Ianto stands gingerly. "I'd appreciate that."

\--

He drops Tosh off first, walking her to her door and kissing her forehead. "Take it easy for a while, Toshiko. And call me if you need anything. I mean it, anything."

She smiles and nods. "Thank you, Jack. I will."

When he returns to the car, Ianto is leaning his head against the window, staring out into the grey evening. Jack lays a hand on his shoulder and Ianto carefully turns his head towards him.

"You still awake?" Jack asks softly.

"Yes," Ianto replies, then betrays himself by yawning. "Sorry, sir, didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"I can imagine." Jack buckles his seat belt back in place and starts the engine, pulling out onto the quiet suburban street. He lets Ianto direct him, in measured instructions, to an address he already knows. At Ianto's, he parks in a parking spot instead of on the street, and unbuckles his seat belt again.

"You don't need to walk me to my door, Jack," Ianto says with a certain amount of irritation.

"What if I want to?" Jack replies, looking over his shoulder at him.

Ianto stares back for a few beats, and says, "Suit yourself." Then he opens his door and all but tumbles out of the SUV.

Jack winces at the clear sign that he is unwelcome, but follows Ianto at a slight distance to his front door. Ianto unlocks it with trembling hands, then starts up the stairs to the third floor.

Jack has only been in this building once -- when he drove Ianto home the night they killed Lisa. It's not a memory to revisit even as it is the thing that stands between them. On the second floor landing, Jack becomes aware of how laboured Ianto's breathing is, of how Ianto's legs are trembling. He reaches out a hand and takes Ianto's elbow.

Ianto flinches, jerks away, spins and loses his balance. Jack lunges forward to try and catch him, but he's too slow and Ianto goes down in a heap of sprawling limbs. He lets out a pained yelp and a whimper when his upper body impacts with the bottom stair. He lies still.

Jack crouches by his side, swearing under his breath, running his hands over Ianto's body and up to his face. "Damn, Ianto, look at me."

Blue eyes blink open, and now there is no hiding the pain in them. Physical or emotional pain, Jack isn't sure he can tell the difference right now. Ianto wants to pull away, but Jack doesn't let him. He slides an arm around Ianto's shoulders and helps him to sit up, resting his weight against Jack's chest. "Easy," Jack whispers softly, feeling Ianto's hair tickle his neck.

Ianto breathes softly, shallowly, probably to minimise the pain to his battered ribs. Jack holds him and lets him ride it out. "Jack--" Ianto breaks off whatever he was about to say and coughs, groaning against more pain.

"Ssh." Jack kisses the top of his head. "Easy. Can you stand?"

Ianto nods, not attempting to speak, and lets Jack help him to his feet. Slowly, they make their way up the final flight of stairs. Ianto unlocks the door to his flat and goes inside. Jack follows.

There are fewer boxes than there were last time. _Lisa's stuff_, they had been labelled, Jack remembers. A lone photo of Lisa sits in the bookcase, next to a photo of what Jack assumes is Ianto's family -- father, mother, and a sister with a family of her own. It fits with Ianto's records. He wonders how much they know about Ianto's life.

"I would offer you coffee," Ianto croaks behind him, "but I'm not really up to making it."

The sarcasm and dry wit are deafeningly loud, even now. Jack turns. "I'll take a rain check until you're feeling better."

Ianto grimaces. "Thank you, sir. Very gracious."

Jack wonders why they always do this -- fall back into this banter that is so very meaningless. Before Lisa, this was how they talked to each other; subtle flirting disguised as requests for coffee or admin or something equally inane. After Lisa, for a while they didn't speak at all, except for the orders that Jack gave and Ianto followed without question. Now, they're back to this, but it's suddenly exposed for the emptiness it was all along. Jack aches with the realisation of how lonely Ianto must have been. Ianto was different from the rest of the team, had been from the beginning. But Jack had failed to reach out to him, had refused to poke beneath the easy flirtation to see the man. He tries to smile at Ianto and feels the expression falter on his face. "We should get you into bed."

Ianto raises an eyebrow and replies, "Really, sir."

It's too much, this young man who had been crying in his arms a mere hour before, shaken to pieces by events that had been beyond both their control. Ianto is standing before him bruised and battered and wearing an armour Jack is so tired of. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't cross the boundaries between professional and personal, but while Ianto and Tosh are wearing the bruises, Jack is feeling them on his heart.

He crosses the two steps to Ianto and strokes two knuckles down his cheek. This time, Ianto doesn't flinch. He breathes deeply, haltingly, and stares at Jack as if he's issued a challenge. "Don't," Jack whispers, voice thick with the things he does not want to say, not yet. "I'm not here for that. Not any more. You--" _You made sure of that_. He doesn't say what lies on the tip of his tongue. Because Ianto's betrayal -- and Jack is intimately familiar with this -- was a result of circumstance, of horror that should not have been. Jack has seen and felt this so many times. It is why he can forgive Ianto so easily. To forget and to trust are another matter.

Ianto closes his eyes and presses his cheek ever so slightly against the knuckles that are still caressing his cheek. Jack leans in and softly presses his lips to Ianto's, merely brushing Ianto's mouth with his own. Ianto opens his eyes and looks at him. Jack pauses, running his fingers into Ianto's hair and pulling him close again. Ianto steps into his embrace, bringing his own arms up around Jack's waist.

"We'll be okay," Jack says softly.

After a moment, he lets Ianto go and says decisively, "You do need to get some rest."

Ianto smiles. "Yes. I could do with that."

Jack leads him to the bedroom -- _and didn't he imagine this would be under a different set of circumstances, once?_ \-- and helps him undress and get into bed. When he pulls the covers over Ianto's body, blue eyes look up at him.

Whatever his own feelings about trust, he recognises the emotion in Ianto's gaze. He takes Ianto's hand in his and squeezes.

"Did you mean it?" Ianto asks, sounding and looking for all the world like a little boy being tucked into bed by an angry parent.

Jack holds their joined hands against his cheek. "Yes."

_We'll be okay._

\--  
_finis._


End file.
